Lucidity
by Amaya Shinkuyoake
Summary: Somewhat gory, Inuyasha's impressions and instincts when under control of his youkai blood


Lucidity

Blood. It was everywhere.  Drops of it, sticky strings of it, sprays and spurts and pools of it.  He could see its crimson brilliance glistening like jewels, could feel its sticky viscosity covering him, seeping into his pores, filling him with incredible energy.  Blood was all he could smell...blood and viscera, and the sweet, metallic scent of fresh death.  It drove him ever onward, each slash of his claws bringing more of it exploding over, around...through him.  He gloried in the sense of it, could feel the life of it being transmuted from the cracked, faulty vessels he destroyed into him, into the energy needed to collect more, to be stronger...the strongest!  He had to be strong!  Had to...because...  

All of a sudden he froze.  Why was it again that he needed to be strong?  He knew there was a reason for it, he just couldn't remember what it was.  Slowly, agonizingly, he began to come down off the blood high, began to come back to himself.  Nothing was living anymore...at least nothing he could sense.  The blood covering him, soaked utterly through his clothes, no longer pulsed with life, it began to sicken him, clinging to him like mud, and already beginning to smell of decay...death.  Death was all around him, death he had caused, and it was drawing the energy back out of him, taking back some of what he had stolen as the blood settled, seeped into the ground until even the ground could take no more.  Realization came to him then, in a rush, full realization, and he crumpled to the earth.  He remembered now.  He had to be strong for her, to protect her, and somehow, it had gotten away from him...the usual precaution for his madness had disappeared.  He never let go of the charm which kept him sane, which kept her safe, and yet, somehow it was not in his hands, and even with it, he had been too pumped with the energies of battle to notice when it was gone and retrieve it.  He stared at his hands...at the blood on his hands...and felt a scream welling up inside him.  What if some of this was her blood?  Unable to stand the touch of his blood-infused clothing one second longer, he ripped it desperately from his body, sobbing and growling at the same time.  

It was then that she found him, and she held in her hands the very item which guaranteed her safety.  He smelt her sweet, soft perfume as she approached him, heedless of the fact that the ground she walked upon was a mud made of blood and soil and other things better not even contemplated, she approached him with trepidation.  It was only when he turned to face her and she saw his tortured features that she knew she was safe.  Safe in body, but her heart hurt horribly.  It was because of her that he had to fight, because of her that he almost lost his soul forever...and could still lose his mind if she didn't get him out of there soon.  She reached him and gently placed his protection - his sword - in his hands, closing them around it with her own.  She kneeled beside him in a puddle of blood, bile, and shredded flesh, picked up his armor from where he had thrown it when he ripped it from himself and threw it over her shoulder like laundry, then tenderly wrapped her arms around him, barely acknowledging his nakedness, and helped him to rise to his feet again.  Without a word she led him away from the battlefield.  They walked slowly and silently for what seemed like miles, although it was in reality less than one, until they came to a stream cutting across the landscape.  Still without words she stepped with him into a slow-turning backeddy, stripped out of her own fouled clothing and laid it with his on the bank to deal with later, then helped him to clean himself, carefully removing every last speck of blood, even having to pry his sword out of one hand at a time to get the blood off his palms.  When he was finally spotless, she drew him into her arms.  He huddled there like a small child, and finally let go completely.  His arms went around her, although he still continued to grip his sword with one hand, and he buried his face into her shoulder with a desperate whimper.

"Oh, Kagome..."

"It's alright Inuyasha...it'll be alright." 

Um…yeah….kinda visceral, but it was written at three in the morning, and I needed to get it out of my system.


End file.
